


Of Ghosts and Teenagers

by raven_bird



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, Idk what to tag this as, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_bird/pseuds/raven_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, Natasha's ideas have sometimes gotten Steve into trouble. But this? This was new.<br/>-------------<br/>Steve pressed his lips together, and then asked hesitantly, “Are you going to kill me?”<br/>This time it was Bucky who paused, looking away from Steve as he, presumably, contemplated the answer. Steve’s breathing was the only sound in the room, loud against the backdrop of long-silent halls and rooms, the creaking of Sam and Natasha upstairs only a distant noise.<br/>Finally: “No.”<br/>-------------<br/>Feedback is very much appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Ghosts and Teenagers

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided, two days before Halloween, to write a Steve/Bucky fic with something supernatural-related, in the spirit of the season. And then this was born. I hope you like it!

“Okay, fellas,” Natasha grinned at her friends, settling herself into a cross-legged position across from Sam and Steve, who exchanged nervous looks. She was wearing the self-satisfied look that usually preceded a terrible, terrible idea. Steve took a moment to appreciate the fact that his parents were away for the night: the last time Natasha had come up with one of her ideas, they had broken a computer and two windows, and at least tonight Steve would have time to clean up whatever mess they made before his parents came home. “Are you ready for this?”

  
“If Steve’s not doing it, I’m not doing it.” Sam said quickly.

  
“You don’t even know what it is,” she frowned.

  
“I know enough by the look on your face.”

  
“What loo-”

  
“Okay, okay,” Steve cut her off, looking worriedly at her face (which had donned a slightly dangerous expression). “Just tell us what we’re doing.”

  
“Well, since you two losers decided that we’re not going to Stark’s party, I figured we should still stick to the Halloween spirit and have some fun.” She pulled an elastic band from her wrist and put her hair up into a ponytail. “So, the question is: are you guys ready to channel your horror-movie stars?”

  
“If there’s an Ouija board, I’m out.”

  
Natasha wrinkled her nose at Sam. “Fine. No Ouija boards. How about you, Steve?”

  
He shrugged. “Sure. It beats sitting around here all night.”

  
“Alright. So, I’ve heard a story about this one house, a couple of miles out of town, where this teenager supposedly died back in the 40’s. Apparently he turned into a ghost – unfinished business and all that – and now he shows up in the windows and in the reflections of mirrors. Occasionally he’s even been seen in corporeal form.”

  
“Sounds pretty made-up.”

  
Nat sighed. “I know, Clint told it to me, but who knows, it might be-”

  
“Clint told it to you?” Steve asked, at the same time as Sam muttered, “That explains why it sounds so cheesy.”

  
“Will you guys shut up for like two seconds?” After a pause, she continued. “Anyways. This ghost, he’s only been seen in the winter, so they call him the Winter Soldier, for that and the fact that he died while World War 2 was going on. They say he’s killed over 2 dozen people.”

  
“The Winter Soldier?” Sam shook his head. “Man, that’s one lame alias.”

  
“Well, we might as well check it out.” Steve got to his feet, extending a hand to Natasha to pull her up as well. “Like I said, we got nothing better to do.”

  
“I guess I’ll just leave this behind, then.” Natasha said, pulling an Ouija board out of her shoulder-bag and leaving it on the bed as she glared at Sam, who laughed.

  
“I should’ve known that you actually had one.”

  
“What can I say, I’m prepared.”

  
“Will you two stop flirting and hurry up?” Steve pulled on his boots, grinning at his friends.

  
“I’ll flirt with you later, don’t worry.” Sam called to him, and Steve winked back.

  
“Now’s a good a time as any,” Natasha said, pushing past Steve, “You guys can get it over with while I go pull up the car.”

  
The door closed behind her and Steve looked at Sam. “So what do you think of this?”

  
“All I know is that at the first sign of any ghost, I’m outta there.” Sam shivered. “I’m just glad I managed to stop her bringing that Ouija thing. You?”

  
“Should be interesting.” He shrugged. “I don’t really believe in ghosts or anything, but there’ll probably be some old photos hanging around and stuff if it’s an actual abandoned house.”

  
A drawn-out honk sounded from the driveway, and Sam jumped at the sound.

  
Steve looked sideways at him. “You better not let Nat see how easily you get scared. She’ll sneak up on you for sure.”

  
“She wouldn’t.” Sam said, a bit uncertainly.

  
“Oh, she would. She’d be pretty pleased with herself, too.” Steve said, slipping out the door. “I think she can smell fear.”

  
Sam followed, wondering for the thousandth time why the hell he was friends with these two psychos.

 

 

 

The gravel crunched audibly under the tiles of Natasha’s car as they pulled up in front of the building, a red-brick house a white porch and a rusted windmill to the side of it, which groaned and creaked in the late October wind. They all got out of the car and stepped into the dark night, looking up at the house skeptically. “This is the place. At least, according to Clint.”

  
“It doesn’t look very haunted.” Sam said, the slightest sound of relief in his voice.

  
“It’s definitely abandoned, though,” Steve walked up the porch steps, bouncing on the balls of his feet a couple of times to test the floor. “These boards haven’t been replaced in a long time. They’re close to rotting away completely.”

  
He pushed the door open, and walked through the frame, on to a slightly less rotted floor. It was difficult to see in the dim lighting, but what they did see looked more like a horror movie set than it had from the car. A layer of dust had settled on every flat surface available, and there were empty bookshelves and cabinets lining every available wall space.

  
The dust drifted up with each step they took, creating a slightly eerie feel to the entire scene. The three paused just a little bit into the room, looking around at the darkness that stretched out on all sides. Sam was the first person to break the silence.

  
“Okay, this is great. Really fun. I just love being in old houses when I can barely see anything.”

  
“Scared of the dark, Wilson?” asked Natasha, the white flash of her teeth as she grinned almost luminescent. Sam watched warily as she dug through her bag.

  
“What else do you have in there?”

  
“Calm down, just a couple of flashlights.” She handed one to each of the boys, flicking her own on. “Always be prepared, right?”

  
“I didn’t take you for a girl scout.” Steve commented, pointing his flashlight at the floor in front of him as he strode further into the house, the light revealing the specks of dust.

  
“I wasn’t.” Natasha said, walking to the nearest bookshelf and examining a shattered picture frame. “Ballet was more my thing.”

  
“Seriously?” Sam asked.

  
Natasha didn’t reply, and instead looked at Steve. “It looks like there’s a whole album of photographs over there. You’re interested in those kind of things, right?”

  
He knelt to the bottom shelf of the bookshelf that she was pointing to and pulled the spiral-bound book out of it, brushing the dust off of the cover. “Yeah, this looks great.”

  
“Okay, well, I’m going to explore upstairs,” she said, walking over to the bottom of the staircase and leaning against the railing. “You guys going to stay here or what?”

  
“I’ll come with you.” Sam volunteered, looking over to where Steve was already settling down with the book.

  
The two of them disappeared, the stairs creaking under their combined weight, and then Steve was left alone. He opened the cover, glancing over the first couple of pictures, which had been carefully glued into the pages. There was a picture of two adults, obviously in love, smiling at each other in the black and white colours of the photograph. The next one showed the same two people, this time with a child tucked in the woman’s arms. With every new photograph, they grew older: the parents looked more worn, but Steve was, for some reason he himself didn’t understand, focused only on the boy. With every new shot, he seemed more familiar, like they had known each other in some past life or alternate universe.

  
He was near the end of the book when his flashlight flickered, and he tore his eyes from the pages to frown at the stream of light filtering from it. Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed another flicker: this time, not from the flashlight. Steve froze.

  
_“This teenager supposedly died back in the 40’s… ghost… unfinished business and all… occasionally he’s even been seen in corporeal form… they say he’s killed over 2 dozen people.”_

  
The room was dead still. There were no more flickers, from the flashlight or anything else, and Steve allowed his muscles to relax. There was nothing there, of course. It was obviously Sam’s fear influencing his own mind; he had never believed in ghosts, and wasn’t about to start now.

  
And then, there it was again, right by the chair by the nearest cabinet. The shape was blurry at first, like it wasn’t able to show up properly, but then it became completely recognizable in the shape of a young man, sitting in the chair, long hair hanging down into his face. He was paler than anyone Steve had ever seen, and obviously something supernatural.

  
The thing is, Steve wasn’t scared. He felt almost comfortable in the presence of whatever, whoever, this was. Though the logical side of his brain was uselessly protesting the existence of the being that was sitting only a few meters away, Steve felt like he knew it. Somehow, he knew this person, this ghost, he knew their face, he could recognize their eyes and their hands and their lips, and he knew their name. He knew their _name_ …

  
“Bucky…” he breathed, not even knowing what he was saying, and the word echoed futilely in the empty room. The ghost barely responded, but after a second he raised his head, those blue eyes locking with Steve’s, with no expression at all.

  
“Bucky.” Steve said again, firmly this time.

  
The ghost, Bucky, nodded, eyes still trained directly on Steve.

  
_“They say he’s killed over 2 dozen people.”_

  
Steve pressed his lips together, and then asked hesitantly, “Are you going to kill me?”

  
This time it was Bucky who paused, looking away from Steve as he, presumably, contemplated the answer. Steve’s breathing was the only sound in the room, loud against the backdrop of long-silent halls and rooms, the creaking of Sam and Natasha upstairs only a distant noise.

  
Finally: “No.”

  
Steve let a smile settle on his face. Somehow he hadn’t expected the answer to be ‘yes’. There was something about him, though, something he was so close to naming, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Do I know you?”

  
The ghost met Steve’s eyes again, looking conflicted, like he, too, was searching for some way to define the feeling of intimacy between them, though neither could remember ever seeing each other in their lives. “I… don’t know.”

  
His voice sounded hoarse, like it hadn’t been used in decades… which, Steve thought, was possibly true. Steve looked down at the photo album, still opened on his lap, and examined the boy who he had thought he’d recognized before. “Is this you?”

  
Bucky pushed himself up from the chair, and moved towards him, walking but gliding at the same time, ethereal in his grace. He lowered himself next to Steve, who shifted the book so that they could both view it comfortably. “Yeah. Me an’ my parents.”

  
“What happened to them?”

  
“Moved out. They could feel me here, before I learned how to show myself, and it made them feel lonely.” He reached out for the book, but his fingers slipped right through it. “I couldn't open this before.”

  
Steve watched as Bucky extended his hand again towards the book, trying to touch the long-gone faces of his parents, of his family, and his heart felt like it was going to explode with emotion. “Do you want me to turn the pages for you?”

  
Bucky nodded, biting his lip and sending the tiniest, saddest smile towards Steve, a quiet ‘thank you’. Together, they started from the beginning and went through the aged photographs of people dead and gone, and days long forgotten. The last picture in the book was a photograph of Bucky, by himself, standing in front of the very house that they were in now. Bucky looked at it, almost regretfully, and then turned to Steve.

  
“I was supposed to inherit this place. Take over my dad’s business.” He shook his head. “I’ve spent decades regretting not being able to do that.”

  
“How did you…” Steve started, and then flushed, not knowing how to start.

  
“How did I die?” asked Bucky bluntly. “It’s a bit hazy, actually, but from what I gathered I was in a train crash. There was blockage on the rails, and we just couldn’t stop in time. I woke up and I was back here.”

  
“I’m sorry.” Steve said, looking at the other boy’s face.

  
“Don’t worry,” the ghost assured him, twitching his mouth. “I’ve had a long time to get adjusted to it. I just wish I could’ve seen this album before.” He looked back down at the pages.

  
“Hey, Steve?” Natasha’s voice called from upstairs. “Are you ready to go?” Their footsteps sounded like they were approaching the top of the stairs.

  
Bucky shot Steve an anxious look. “I have to go.”

  
“I know. Do you – Do you want me to keep this open?” Steve asked, gesturing to the book.

  
Bucky looked thoughtfully at it. “Yes.” And then, almost impulsively, he looked at Steve and then back down at it. “And you can take that photo, if you want.”

  
Steve barely had time to comprehend the other boy’s words before Bucky nodded, smiled, and disappeared. “… Thank you.” He murmured, to the empty room, and was rewarded by a slight, warm breeze, with the same familiarity he had felt the first time he had seen Bucky.

  
He slid the photo out of the album and tucked it in the pocket of his jacket, just before Sam and Natasha came down the stairs.

  
“Anything interesting up there?” he asked, looking up at them.

  
Natasha shrugged. “Not unless you find empty bedrooms and closets with a bit of old clothes in them interesting.”

  
“There were a couple of old pictures up there, too, if you wanted to look.” Sam added.

  
Steve shrugged, tracing the edge of the photograph in his pocket. “I’m good for now. How about we head back and watch a movie or something?”

  
“That sounds awesome.” With a nod, Natasha slipped out the door. Sam paused on his way after her, looking worriedly at Steve.

  
“Hey, are you okay? You seem a little off.” He grinned. “You didn’t see the Winter Soldier, did you?”

  
Steve didn’t answer for a moment, and then shook his head. He hadn’t seen the Winter Soldier. He hadn’t seen the kind of thing that ghost stories should be told about, he hadn’t seen the type of thing that killed people… he had seen a friend. Maybe he didn’t know this teenager who had died in the 40s, but something told him, deep inside, that they were somehow connected. Somehow, somewhere, they knew each other. Maybe it was a parallel universe, maybe it was just something beyond any theories yet to be created, but Steve felt, even knew that, in some way, he and this Bucky were like magnets. They would always find a way to connect, to be touching. Their lives, no matter where they were, would always find a way to touch.

 

 

 

Steve waved goodbye to Natasha, who had already started her car, as the ending credits of The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing on the TV. They had decided to skip out on the horror and stick with the kind of movies that would bring the feeling of pumpkins and skeletons without the infuriatingly useless protagonists. Besides, as Sam had put it, they had already got their share of abandoned houses and creaky floorboards for the night.

  
Natasha pulled out of the driveway with a honk of her horn, and Steve turned to Sam. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?”

  
“Nah, I’m fine. I only have a couple blocks to walk.”

  
“If you say so.” Steve said skeptically.

  
Sam walked out the door, and then stopped, turning back to look at Steve. “Listen man, I know something’s been bugging you. I’m not forcing you to tell me anything, but just know that I’d listen, okay?”

  
“I know.” Steve smiled. “You should probably become a counselor or something.”

  
“We’ll see.” Satisfied, Sam moved away. “See you, Steve.”

  
“See you,” Steve echoed, as Sam disappeared into the night.

 

 

 

Steve let the door fall shut behind him and wandered back to his room, flicking off the TV as he went. Sitting on his bed, he pulled the photograph out of his pocket for the first time since he’d gotten home. He set it on the mattress, letting his fingers smooth over the time-worn surface. It was strange, seeing Bucky in such a different time period: his clothes were worn and faded, his face unsmiling as he squinted into the sun. It was hard to reconcile it with the ghost he had seen just a couple of hours ago.

  
But they were undeniably the same person. Years might have passed, and his hair might be different, but Steve could see the same posture, the same shape of the face. And both of them just seemed right to him, like they were meant to somehow fit together, though they hadn’t even lived in the same time period.

  
And that was something that Steve found hard to take in. It was such a strange topic to think about, especially for someone who had never even considered ghosts to be a feasible possibility outside of movies and books. He was trying to avoid thinking too hard about it.

  
“Bucky.” He said thoughtfully, tasting the name on his lips.

  
Without warning, there was a flash at the end of the bed and Bucky stumbled forward, looking up at Steve with a confused expression.

  
“Wha-”

  
“How did you-”

  
They cut each other off, both of them staring hopelessly at each other. Finally Bucky spoke again. “That’s never happened before.”

  
“Then how…?”

  
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, walking around so that he could sit next to Steve on the bed. He drew his eyebrows together at the sight of the photograph. “D’you think it could have had something to do with this?”

  
Steve looked up. “Maybe. I don’t know much about ghosts, but sometimes they have connections with certain objects. At least, that’s what they say in movies.”

  
“That’d make sense,” agreed Bucky. “I put that album together for my parents.”

  
“So when I called your name, it… summoned you?” Steve winced, unsure if he had phrased that right. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, though, so he assumed it was okay.

  
“You called my name?” he said, amused.

  
“I was just wondering how I knew it, without ever seeing you before.”

  
“I know yours, too. Steve, right?”

  
Steve nodded. “We don’t know each other, right? I mean, we couldn’t have.”

  
“Who knows, pal.” Bucky leaned back, turning his gaze to the other boy again. “I’m a ghost, I never even expected to be here… what year is it?”

  
“2014,” supplied Steve, remembering again just how long ago Bucky had been alive.

  
“Christ.” The ghost shook his head. “That’s, what, 70 years since I was alive? Anyways, I never expected to be permanently young in 2014. I don’t even know what half of these things are!” He picked up Steve’s iPod from the bedside table, turning it over in his hands.

  
“It’s an iPod.” Steve stood up, pulling Bucky by the hand so that they were both standing and leading him around the room. “That’s a CD player, and that’s a laptop.”

  
“I have no idea what any of that means,” Bucky told him bluntly.

  
“Oh. You had televisions back then, right?”

  
Bucky nodded and Steve smiled. “Follow me.”

  
They went down the stairs together, and into the living room, where the TV was. Steve pointed to it. “That’s our TV.”

  
“Are you pulling my leg?”

  
Steve held back a smile. “No.”

  
Bucky stepped closer to get a better look at it, pacing around it and frowning. “But it’s so small. How can it work?”

  
“Do you want me to prove it to you?”

 

 

 

A few minutes later they had picked out The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Steve slid the DVD into the player and found a spot next to Bucky on the couch as the menu popped up. He selected ‘Play’, as Bucky watched curiously, and the movie began in a flurry of colour, which instantly caught Bucky’s attention. Steve laughed at the expression on his face.

  
The first little bit went fine. Bucky watched the scenes play out in rapt attention, asking Steve question after question about the songs and characters and settings. Steve had to explain that the movie wasn’t even current, that it was set in a different time period.

  
Then it showed, briefly, Sam walking in on Patrick and Brad making out in the bedroom. Steve saw, out of the corner of his eye, Bucky stiffen. He had forgotten about that part, and was a little unsure about how he was supposed to handle it. He paused the movie, waiting for the inevitable question.

  
“Can people… do that now?” asked Bucky tentatively, his fist clenching slightly in his lap.

  
“Yeah.” Steve looked at him. “I’m bisexual, actually… I like boys and girls. Some people are still jerks about it, but mostly everyone’s much more accepting.”

  
Bucky shifted, and nodded. “That’s good.” He croaked out.

  
Steve unpaused the movie, but neither of them really paid much attention past that point. Bucky stopped asking questions, and Steve worried for the rest of the movie, thinking that he had made Bucky uncomfortable or dumped too much at him, way too fast.

  
When the movie faded into the credits, neither of them moved for a good minute, before Steve got up and turned it off. Bucky stood, too, and they climbed back up the stairs to Steve’s room in silence, where they stood facing each other.

  
“Are you okay?” Steve said, after the silence had stretched so long that it became the only thing that either of them could focus on.

 

Bucky raised his eyes to meet Steve’s, and Steve was startled by the amount of pain he could see there. “I thought there was something wrong with me.”

  
Finally the pieces clicked together, and Steve reached out, trying to find some way to comfort the ghost. His hand somehow found Bucky’s cool one, who looked up with a start.

  
“You can touch me?”

  
Steve looked down at their hands. “I guess. Has that ever happened before?”

  
Bucky shook his head, staring wondrously at Steve, who blushed.

  
“What do you think it means?” Steve asked. “Does it have something to do with why we knew each other’s names?”

  
“It could be,” Bucky said. “I could never touch any of the people who came visiting my house before, but you’re… different. In all kinds of ways.”

  
He looked away for a second, pulling his hand out of Steve’s grasp. Then, seeming to gain determination, he met Steve’s eyes again. “Do you mind if I try something?”

  
“Anything.” Answered Steve.

  
Bucky stepped forward, reaching out a hand to Steve’s neck, and then pulling it back slightly, as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to do it. Finally, though, the other side won out and he leaned it, kissing Steve firmly. When he finally pulled away, Steve stumbled slightly, lifting a hand to touch his lips. Bucky was equally affected, blinking quickly and breathing heavily.

  
“Wow.”

  
“I know.”

  
They looked at each other for a second.

  
“So is this why we were drawn to each other? Are we like… soul mates?” Steve asked unsurely.

  
“How about we find out together?”

  
Steve grinned. “That sounds perfect.”

  
And the two of them, the teenager and the ghost, managed to find a way. It seems that, despite all odds, they’ll always find a way. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes against the world, and all that.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the cliched comparisons and cheesy writing. Like I said before, I would love some feedback / constructive criticism! This is my first work not only for the MCU but also on AO3, so I'm still figuring things out.  
> Visit me on tumblr!! [lavenderjehan](http://lavenderjehan.tumblr.com)


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